Masterpiece
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Neal stops by the Burke's for a visit and ends up helping Peter with an item on his Saturday "honey do" list.


Disclaimer: I own nothing related to White Collar. Just having a little fun with my favorite FBI agent and his, CI. No infringement intended.

* * *

**Masterpiece**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

It was a gorgeous fall morning. Wall-to-wall sun, brilliant blue sky, and just a hint of crispness in the air. Neal Caffrey stopped in front of the Burke's front door, a box of pumpkin pastries in hand. In truth, Neal was already daydreaming about a cup of Elizabeth's miraculous coffee, yet he hesitated briefly before finally knocking on the door, unsure of his welcome given the recent tensions between him and Peter.

The smile on Elizabeth's face when she opened the door and saw him eased his mind considerably.

"Neal!" Elizabeth stepped to the side and motioned for him to enter.

Neal stepped across the threshold and held up the bakery box of goodies. "Peace offering."

Giving him a quick hug, Elizabeth sighed. "Sweetie, you don't need to bring a peace offering. Not for me…and not for Peter either, I promise." Elizabeth reached for the box. "But these will go great with my coffee. Would you like a cup?"

"Don't I always?" Neal smiled and fell into step behind Elizabeth. "Speaking of the big guy, is he here?"

"No."

"Oh." Neal was surprised that he was disappointed.

"He's actually down at the hardware store getting paint."

"Paint?"

"Yep. He's painting our bedroom today."

"Really?"

"We made a deal. He paints, I make him one of his favorite meals—lasagna and garlic bread."

"Now that's quite the deal."

Elizabeth laughed. "It is, isn't it?" She plucked two brightly-colored mugs from the cupboard. "He should be back soon though. In the meantime," El filled their mugs and opened the lid of the box, "we'll indulge."

Neal was halfway through his first pastry and cinnamon-laced coffee when the back door opened and Peter sailed into the kitchen, arms laden with both paint and supplies. Seeing his CI leaning against the counter, Peter tensed and hesitated before proceeding further into the room and putting his purchases down.

"Neal? What are you doing here?"

Neal straightened, fingers tightening on the coffee mug. "I…I just came for a visit. You know, I thought Satchmo…I thought maybe he missed me."

"I see."

The younger man pointed to the open box of baked goods. "And I brought a…peace offering."

Hearing sincerity in Neal's voice, some of the tenseness crept away from Peter's shoulders. "What are they? They sure look good."

"Pumpkin Pastries from _Secunda Mensa_."

El slid a mug of coffee in front of her husband. "Here, hun—fortify yourself before you go and tackle painting our room."

The kitchen grew quiet as the men concentrated on finishing off the box of baked goods, but it wasn't long before Peter popped the last of his mid-morning repast in his mouth and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Well, I guess I better get started." He tossed his napkin down and moved to stand.

"Hey, Peter, you want some help?" queried Neal.

Eyeing Neal's pristine jeans and black t-shirt under a stylish leather jacket, the FBI agent raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to help? It might get a little messy."

Neal swallowed the last of his coffee and placed the mug down on the counter decisively. "Sure, why not?"

Gathering their used mugs to put in the sink, Elizabeth offered, "I'm sure you'll appreciate the help, honey—and he's staying for dinner anyway—this way he doesn't have to leave and come back."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. Satchmo says so."

Neal bent over and scratched the dog behind the ears. "Well now, how can I say no to that?"

Peter gathered some of the stuff he'd picked up at the hardware store. "Neal, if you could grab the paint…"

The CI grabbed the cans as requested. Following his partner out of the room, he read the paint colors out loud. "Let's see…Magic Spell. And Diamond Light. Oohhh, fancy!"

Hearing the teasing tone, Peter responded in kind, "Don't look at me. I didn't pick 'em. That was El's doing. As far as I'm concerned—they're blue and white."

The two men entered the bedroom that had been thoroughly prepped for the coming refurbishment.

"Wow, you really have been busy today."

"For very good reason. I need to get this done before my lovely wife decides she wants all new furniture in here."

It didn't take long for them to get set up and begin painting. Peter found himself enjoying the camaraderie and companionship as his paint roller swept back and forth across the wall leaving behind a warm blue hue. The once dreaded task soon fell into a comfortable rhythm.

The morning and early afternoon passed and at some point the wondrous aroma of garlic and Italian spices permeated the air. Peter sniffed appreciatively and felt—and heard—his stomach rumble. "Man, I cannot wait to dig into that lasagna. And El's garlic bread—there's nothing better. It's like Heaven. How about you, Neal? You have to be getting pretty hungry by now."

When Neal remained quiet, Peter turned around with a puzzled frown only to gasp. "Neal!" Peter's hands dropped to his sides. "Neal, what have you done?" The FBI agent took a couple of steps forward, staring at the wall.

The younger man had somehow managed to paint a beautiful mural on the wall using only a myriad of mixtures of the basic blue and white paint. It was stunning and Peter marveled at the sight.

"When you offered to help paint—I wasn't expecting anything—anything!—like this. I can't believe it."

"You're not mad, are you?" Neal cleared his throat. "I mean, I kinda got caught up in the moment, you know—got a little carried away."

"Mad? No, no. I'm not mad. How could I be?" Peter took another step forward, gaze still locked on the intricacies of the picture before him. He breathed out slowly. "Will you look at that? A Neal Caffrey original right on my wall."

"Do you think…do you think Elizabeth will like it?"

"Elizabeth! Yes, yes we have to show El. Like it? She'll love it!" Peter turned and loped out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs. "Elizabeth? El? EL, you gotta come upstairs! You're not going to believe this!"

_**FIN**_


End file.
